That One in a Billion
by lexxie r
Summary: Xena/Ares, Gabby/Joxer Uberfic that takes place in present-day Los Angeles. Old acquaintances meet again...only some of them don't know it yet.


DISCLAIMERS: The characters of _ X:WP_ most certainly do not belong to me. If they did, oh, the things I would do... Anyway, no money is being made from this, and no copyright infringement is intended. 

SEX/VIOLENCE/LANGUAGE: Implied/minimal/oh hell yeah. Rated R (just to be safe). 

COMBO: This is a Xena/Ares, Gabby/Joxer fic. You have been warned. 

TIMELINE: Uber alert! Takes place in present-day Los Angeles, but the story itself was written immediately after watching _ COMING HOME_, the sixth season premiere. We'll just say it's an AU, ok? Creative license — go with it.

FEEDBACK: Any and all comments are appreciated. E-mail me at ** mistiblu02@hotmail.com**. 

** **********************************************************************************************

** That One in a Billion**

By Lexxie

_ Until the rivers cease to flow,_

Until the winds refuse to blow,

Until the moon drowns in the night,

Until the stars fade from my sight,

Until the sun sleeps in the sea,

Until the breath departs from me,

Until this bond with you dissever,

I'll wait for you, my love, forever.

** CHAPTER ONE - VISITATIONS**

It was a dark and stormy night in Mount Olympus.

Aphrodite stared sullenly at the pounding rain outside the window, a pout drawing her perfect features down. She watched helplessly as the dozens of pink roses in the garden, carefully arranged in a heart-shaped pattern, bent with the force of the pelting storm, mud pooling around their tiny stems. She sighed.

"This is totally _ yuck_!"

Her fingers twitched and she huffed impatiently. If she still had her powers, she could just zap those nasty storm clouds away with a lift of a dainty pinkie. But the blonde knew it would be pointless, even pathetic, to try. Her glory days had passed a lifetime ago. Literally. 

Because now there are no gods. And this is not Mount Olympus. Not the Mount Olympus of the Ancient Greeks, anyway. Not the fabled abode of Zeus and his children, the spectacular castle in the sky with its graceful columns embraced with ivy, it's pristine white marble, it's statuesque inhabitants. The decadence of an age forgotten, the magic of a time lost amongst the millennia...all gone. 

Instead, welcome to the New World Order. This is Mount Olympus, Los Angeles, a posh Hollywood community of fancy houses, gleaming cars, and Givenchi-bedecked deities. Who needed sizzling fireballs when a few thick wads of cash could buy you all the mindless worship you could ever want? Slick corporate raiders and high-tech bigwigs ruled the land now. They raped and pillaged and sacked behind their mahogany desks, schemed and strategized in their elegant, carpeted conference rooms. 

But no self-sacrificing heroes here — everyone and their agents knew that no one really wanted to be saved. 

It was a seedy and frightening new world, but Aphrodite had made it. It had been rough, but she had survived the revolution from majestic temples to sleek high-rises. She had made a life here, in this tenuous time of quick-fixes and fake facades. True, it was not the sweetly simple life that she was used to, that she still missed, but it was a comfortable life just the same. Second chances were hard to come by, and she still carried too many scars from watching most of her family fall needlessly to throw this one away.

She _ would_ make it, along with her son and her brother. She'd make sure they all deserved this. 

"Crap," a low voice behind her now said. A muscular figure joined her at the window, frowning handsomely at the dark rain outside. "And we just washed the cars this morning."

"Oh, forget that," she sighed. "I just had those little babies planted two weeks ago, and now they're ruined!" she said pitifully, tilting her chin to indicate the sodden mass of roses outside, some of which had been uprooted by the water and now floated in the wet dirt like drowning victims. 

Ares stared at his sister. "Why are _ you_ so upset about it? Jenkins was the one who nearly broke his back trying to get them all lined up in the ground like you told him to." He shook his head, smirking darkly. "Old fart couldn't straighten his back for two days."

"Don't say that," Aphrodite hissed, her eyes looking furtively around the gloomy parlor to see if the butler in question was within hearing range. "You know how sensitive he is. What with the hernia, and all...." 

Ares just shrugged and moved away from the window to sit in front of the massive black grand piano. Flexing his long fingers, he moved his hands over the ivory with smooth ease. The soft, lilting notes soon mingled with the steady hum of the rain outside. 

Aphrodite settled herself in a thickly padded chair, suddenly weary. "Where's Cupie?" 

"In his room," her brother replied, not lifting his eyes from the keys. "Probably writing another poem to that Polly what's-her-name."

Aphrodite smiled fondly at the thought of her son. "How sweet...he's so crazy about her."

Ares snorted. "Yeah, sweet," he scoffed. "That's — let's see — the third girl he's 'fallen in love with' this month. Right after sweet little Debbie and busty Barbara." 

She frowned at him. "That is so not true," she protested.

Ares shook his head, but his concentration was set on the melancholy melody pouring from his fingers. "Is that right? He changes women like he changes socks. Really, Sis, that kid of yours is a slut." 

Out of nowhere, an overstuffed seat cushion hurtled through the air to strike him on the side of his head. The impact caused his fingers to slip clumsily over the piano keys, filling the dark room with a discordant cacophony. "Hey!"

Aphrodite sprang to her feet, her defiant, alabaster face twisted in fury. "You! You are such a — a...." she spluttered, searching for the word.

Ares stood challengingly, arms crossed. "What? I'm a what?" he egged on, chin raised.

"A — a cynical, pessimistic, self-serving, egotistical..." Frustrated, she delicately stamped her feet. "..._ meanie_!" 

Ares rolled his eyes. "Oooh. That hurt." With a final smirk at his sister, he turned and swaggered toward the parlor door. But Aphrodite, feisty thing that she was, was not going to let him off that easily. There was only so much attitude she could take, and she'd already had to take two thousand years of it.

With a speed that Ares didn't think possible for a woman wearing stiletto heels, the blonde intercepted his exit. Crossing her arms, she glared at her brother icily. "You know what your problem is?" she asked prissily.

Ares cocked his brow. "Well, let's see. I'm a man in perpetual physical prime living in the most exciting city this side of the Styx, but who is stuck living with his featherbrained ditz of a sister and her moony brat for an eternity all because those great bastards who're pulling the strings up there won't let me die." He looked at her speculatively. "Does that answer it?"

Aphrodite's eyes narrowed to blue slits. "Please," she sniffed. "Don't waste your attitude on me, Bro. It's totally pointless. I can see right through you." 

Ares quirked an eyebrow challengingly. "Oh, really?"

"Hey! Don't let the blonde hair fool ya. I know what you're pissing about, and it ain't the extended life expectancy either." Aphrodite marched up to Ares and stabbed a defiant finger against his burly chest. "No, see...your problem is you're too busy feeling sorry for your own damn self that you can't see all the second chances you've been given." Aphrodite nodded knowingly as a confident expression made its way over her face. 

Ares appeared nonplused by her analysis and only said snidely, "Quoting Oprah again, Sis?" He shook his head, dismissing her words as empty air. "You wanna know what's bothering me, do you?" His voice lowered and he glared at his sister, his dark eyes empty and unreadable. "Boredom, 'Dite. That's what's pissing the hell outta me. I've got lifetimes behind and before me, and I've got nothing to do with 'em. Oh, yeah, the immortality thing might've been fun once...like, during the first two millennia, but after a while, it gets tiring, ya know? Now, it's just like being dead...minus the amenities." He paused and cocked his head at her, mocking her. "Oh, I know you don't get that — you with your church fund raisers and Tupperware parties and big-shot buddies — but trust me. All this living gets a guy down."

His sister just shook her head, unmoved and unconvinced. "Oh, don't give me that 'Poor Me' speech again," she chided mockingly. "You _ dig_ the immortality thing, Ar, and you know it. It gives you an excuse to sit around on your derriere all day and think about what you've lost." She paused and looking into his stormy brown eyes, said pointedly, "What you can never have again." 

Ares snorted. "Funny, you almost sound as if you actually believe what you're saying..."

"Oh, but I do," Aphrodite answered, her tone serious. "Denial, hon. Look it up, 'cuz you've got, like, the biggest case of it _ ever_." 

Ares frowned warningly at the familiar turn of the conversation, even as something inside of him wondered if the willowy blonde before him was right. 

"There's no point waiting for something that's never gonna come," Aphrodite continued practically.

"In the first place, we agreed never to bring up this topic again," he ground out. "Secondly," the first hints of emotion glimmered behind his eyes, "you can believe whatever you want to, Aphrodite. But I've never given up on her, and she's never let me down," he finished gruffly as a bittersweet wave flooded through him.

Aphrodite looked pained and put a delicate hand on his muscled arm. "She's gone, Ar," she said softly. "She's been gone for over two thousand years. Get over it."

He jerked her hand off his shoulder as if stung, and shook a finger at her face. "You're wrong," he said almost desperately, his eyes alive with sudden feeling. "She'll be back again someday. And I'll find her." With that, he marched past her and made his way up the carpeted stairs. Aphrodite cringed as his heavy footfalls reverberated through the walls. She heard a loud slam from the second floor, and then silence.

Aphrodite closed her eyes wearily and leaned against the wall. Her thoughts followed Ares, wondering at her brother, that big hulking baby whose blind hope seemed such a contrast to his sulky nature. _ Oh, Bro,_ she thought wistfully. _ Why do you do this to yourself?_

The soft sounds of approaching feet caused her to open her eyes. "Madame," a clipped voice beside her spoke.

She turned her tired eyes on a gray haired man. "Hi, Jenkins."

"If you will permit my asking, Madame, will Master Ares be all right?" the butler asked in his light British accent.

Aphrodite shook her head, as if dismissing it, though inside she wondered the same thing. "Yeah, don't worry about it. He just has to break a few things, take it out on the bricabrac, and then he'll be okay."

"Yes, well," Jenkins coughed. _ Break a few things, eh? And who, I wonder, will have to clean that up?_ Aloud, he continued, "If that will be all, Madame, then I bid you good night."

The blonde winked at him. "Sure thing, babe." With a final bow, Jenkins went up the shadowed stairs.

Alone in the parlor, Aphrodite walked over to the window. The rain still pelted down to the ground mercilessly, roaring dully. A bright flash of lightning illuminated her ruined rose garden, now a watery grave for her pink blooms. She sighed again and shook her head. _ Rain...ugh. Totally not cool._

With a final pout, she drew the curtains closed to the tempest outside, and the one-time Goddess of Love wrapped her arms around herself against the chill and made her way into her room upstairs.

** ************

It was two o'clock in the morning when Jenkins heard the pounding at the front door. 

He sleepily dismissed it at first, taking it for yet another rumble of thunder. But the pounding continued relentlessly, and was soon followed by muffled yells of "Anyone home?"

_ Oh, bloody hell,_ Jenkins thought grumpily through his drowsy haze as he swung his feet over the side of the bed. _ Who's mad enough to be making house calls at this hour, in this weather?_

"Is anyone in there?" the voice called again. More pounding. "Hello?"

"I'm coming, blast it all, I'm coming!" Jenkins muttered as he squinted through the darkness. "Where are those glasses...ah, there." Donning his spectacles and his robe, the man stumbled through his door and down the staircase. 

Meanwhile, the late night visitor continued to knock with even more vigor. "Can anyone hear me? Please?" 

"All right, all right!" Jenkins fairly growled. Muttering a few choice curses beneath his breath, he finally reached the heavy oak doors and flung them open. His scowl soon turned into look of concern when he saw the pale, drenched figure standing there.

"Child, what _ are_ you doing out here at this hour?" he impulsively asked the petite blonde smiling ruefully at him from beneath her plastered bangs.

She smiled uncertainly. "Um, sorry about waking you, but I was wondering if I could use your phone. Our car just decided to give out on us, and I think we'll need a tow truck for it."

"We?"

"Oh, yeah." She pointed behind her, where an old Honda sat in front of their driveway. Through the curtain of the pouring rain, Jenkins could just make out a dark figure sitting in the driver's seat. "My friend and I are on our way home from work." 

"Oh, well," he coughed. "Of course, you may use our phone. Come in...er, miss. And your friend, too," he added, glancing at the car. "I'll fix you both something warm while you wait for the tow truck."

"Oh, we don't want to be a bother —"

Jenkins shook his head and motioned the girl in. "No, no bother. Come on in now."

Green eyes brightened. "Oh, thank you so much." Swiveling her head around, she waved to her companion in the Honda. "Come on, Lucia," she called. Turning back to Jenkins, she pumped his hand enthusiastically in her small grip. "My name's Gracie, by the way. What's your name?"

"Jenkins," he said, bowing slightly. 

"Thank you again, Mr. Jenkins."

"Erm, no. Not Mister. Just Jenkins."

"Oh. How...quaint. Well thank you, Jenkins," Gracie said, unconsciously copying the butler's light accent.

Jenkins smiled as he ushered her in. _ Ah, Jenkins, you old codger. You're a soft one for pretty eyes,_ he thought to himself, amused. He turned his attention to the other woman, who had gotten out of the stalled car and was now standing by the doorway. "And you would be...." he began, but his words died in his throat as he saw her face.

High cheekbones, glossy midnight hair, and eyes as piercing and blue as any he had ever seen. _ Down, old boy,_ he warned himself. _ She's young enough to be your daughter._ "Erm...." he gurgled out, his unflappable mien now dashed to pieces as he beheld this beauty.

The woman smiled slightly, and took his hand in a firm handshake. "Lucia," she drawled by way of introduction. "Thanks for letting us in." Her low voice rolled past her lips like honey.

A broad smile graced Jenkins's wrinkled face. "No, no problem at all, miss." _ Oh, what a match she would be for Master Ares,_ the kindly old man thought as he imagined Ares' brooding figure. _ Wait now...I might just have something there, eh?_ But before he could explore his idea further, he remembered the present situation. Snapping back to his senses, he bowed to the two women. "Beg your pardon," he coughed. "Follow me, ladies."

** ************

Upstairs, in the company of darkness, he dreamed...

...trees, the smell of pine and earth and grass and blue sky...WAR...dirt, blood, swords and armor stained with crimson...bodies falling, arms flailing, thewind whirling gore around their feet...and she had fallen, fallen into his helpless arms, and everyone was screaming and yelling, and the warmth of her fading life had pooled around their huddled bodies, and there was nothing left but whispered, hopeless words, and he clutched blindly at her, not letting her go, not wanting her to leave without him, and the words left his lips but it didn't matter now, because nothing else did, because her eyes were fading, and she was going to go away and never come back, leave him there, a rock in an angry ocean, when he wanted nothing more than to follow her, above and away... 

_ "Ares...."_

His eyelids flew open and he jerked awake with a hoarse gasp. He glanced around his darkened room, at the shadows closing around him with their familiar coldness. Outside, a bright crash of lightning ripped through the night sky. 

A dream, he thought vaguely as he settled back into his bed. _ It's always a dream_. 

He grunted at himself. "What the hell am I doing?" he muttered to his ceiling. "I was a _ god_. Gods do not dream of — of...." _ Of beautiful blue-eyed warriors who spurn you and reject you and piss you off and make you feel whole and alive._

He shook his head at the unfairness of it all. Oh, how he missed her, his dark mortal angel. She had brightened his bleak existence once, but somewhere along the line he screwed up. His arrogance and pride had pushed her away, had turned her smiles into derisive glares. He had wanted to control her, to make her need him, and it had been too late when he realized that it was he who needed her. 

And so he lost her, but with a sardonic twinge, he realized that he never had her to begin with. 

His throat tightened as an old, familiar regret washed over him. "I just can't shake you, love," he murmured, as if she was there with him, lying in his arms, in his bed. "No matter what I do, I just can't shake you." 

With a final defeated sigh, he rolled over on his muscled stomach and closed his eyes, determined to have a dreamless night, just this once. 

He hadn't closed his eyes for more than five minutes when he heard the low murmur of a voice wafting into his room. It was quiet and faint, but he could still hear it — that melodic, husky lilt that thrilled his blood and stirred his soul. _ Her_ voice.... 

His breath caught in his throat as he listened. He kept his eyes closed, afraid to move as if he'd shatter the illusion, but he felt his heart quicken, and for one insane moment, he thought that his dreams had come true. 

But the rational part of him quickly tempered his joy._ You're dreaming, hearing things_, he told himself morosely. 

But better to dream of beautiful things now gone than to open your eyes to the darkness waiting for you. If he opened his eyes, she'd go away again and be lost in the air like the fading notes to a song. 

But how real she sounded, as if she had heard his silent agony and decided to return to him. He'd swear he could hear her talking, laughing, and he could almost believe that she was there with him, in this very house. But he didn't dare open his eyes. Instead he let the welcome murmur lull him to sleep as it has done in all his thousands of cold, empty nights.

_ Xena_... 

** ************

Downstairs, Lucia chuckled softly as Jenkins and Gracie traded work-related anecdotes over their mugs of hot cocoa. Gracie had just gotten off the phone with the local tow service and now sat beside her friend, listening as Jenkins told them about Cupid's latest romantic fiasco.

"They actually want to get married in Vegas?" Gracie asked in mild disbelief. 

"Yes, yes, I know," Jenkins nodded. "I was flabbergasted when he told me. He swore me to secrecy, of course, and I haven't yet told his mum, though I just know she'll be stark raving mad when she does find out."

Gracie smiled, a dreamy look in her green eyes. "Oh, I don't know. It sounds so romantic. But I guess with a name like Cupid, it all makes sense."

"Well, yes, I suppose so. Yes, now that I think of it, it's an odd name, that. I've been told that their mother was a very _ fascinating_ woman. Was very engrossed in ancient history, and all that...."

Lucia swallowed another sip of the warm drink, closing her eyes and letting the gentle heat soothe the chill inside her. Behind the chatter of voices, she could hear the low rumble of the rain. 

Opening her eyes, she slowly surveyed the parlor in which they sat, taking in the dark paneling, heavy damask curtains, and formal furniture. Everything was stately and dignified, as if someone had taken a museum exhibit and planted it here in the Hollywood hills. The whole mansion — at least what she's seen of it — practically screamed money and fine breeding. 

And here she sat, dripping on all their nice upholstery. She felt a little like an intruder, though she knew she was being ridiculous. Still, she was glad that it was the butler who answered the door, and not the owners, or else she and Gracie would've been made to wait out in the pouring rain.

"And what do you do?" Jenkins's voice cut through her thoughts and with a start, Lucia realized the question was directed to her.

"Well, I sing," she said vaguely.

"Sing? You're a performer?" Jenkins asked, intrigued.

Gracie smiled. "Well, you can say that. Lucia works in the same club that I do. She sings, I'm a waitress."

Jenkins's eyebrows rose. "Oh, I see."

"We both work at Frankie's. On Pico Street," Gracie supplied.

"Pico, Frankie's on Pico," Jenkins repeated. "No, I don't believe I've ever heard of that particular restaurant. Though Miss Aphrodite might know where that is. She's very fond of dining out."

Gracie and Lucia exchanged glances. "Um...no, I don't think she'd dine out _ there_," Lucia said with a sideways smirk. 

"I beg your pardon?"

Gracie hastily explained. "Lucia's right, it's not a very...um, _ trendy_ place to eat."

Jenkins raised a questioning eyebrow at her sudden discomfort. "Oh, no?"

Lucia leaned forward, and said, "What Gracie means to say is that people with money wouldn't eat at a place like Frankie's." 

Jenkins was a little put off by her bluntness. _ Oh, Master Ares would just love her,_ his mind said wryly.

Gracie laughed nervously, shooting a sideways glance at her friend. "Well, so," she stammered. "So what do the people who live here do?" she asked abruptly, wishing to change the topic before Lucia managed to alienate Jenkins. "Whatever it is, they must be very successful at it," she added, looking appreciatively at her surroundings. "This is a beautiful house."

Jenkins smiled with pride. "Yes, the Montagne family is very wealthy, indeed. They've made some very shrewd investments over the years. Stocks and all that...I really don't claim to understand the finer points of it all, just that they've made it quite well for themselves."

"We can see," Lucia murmured, her eyes again appraising the room. Suddenly, a brilliant streak of lightning crashed down, and a portrait hanging in a previously shadowed corner was illuminated, catching her eye. For an instant, she could make out a strong masculine face, beautiful though stern and somber. The sudden flash of light seemed to make the face come alive, and deep brown eyes seemed to lance through her. In a second, though, the room was once again dim, and the portrait melted into the shadows. 

At that point, the three heard a short succession of honks outside. Peering out the window, Gracie announced, "There's the tow truck."

"About time," Lucia muttered. Standing, she nodded at Jenkins, flashing a brief smile. "Sorry if we've been an inconvenience. We'll be going now."

"Oh, don't worry, miss, it's not often an old man such as I gets to chat by moonlight to two very beautiful ladies." 

Gracie blushed becomingly and smiled. "Thank you."

Jenkins escorted the two to the front door, and watched through the window as they boarded the tow truck and left, their little Honda trailing meekly behind them. 

"Jenkins?" a soft voice behind him spoke, causing him to jump.

Spinning around, he saw Aphrodite, clad in a satin pink robe. "Ah, Madame. You startled me," he said.

She turned her eyes to the window, seeing the fading lights of the tow truck make it's way down the street. "Who were those?"

Jenkins hesitated a little, wondering what Aphrodite's response would be to his entertaining two complete strangers in her house in the middle of the night. "Those two ladies had a little car trouble, and asked if they could use our phone. I let them in, gave them some hot cocoa...I didn't think you'd mind, Madame, I —"

Aphrodite rolled her eyes, and waved a hand at him. "Oh, please, Jenkie. What, do I look like a total hagster?" Teasingly, she shot a challenging look at Jenkins. "Of course I don't mind. Now _ Ares_...just be glad _ he_ didn't answer the door. He would've been pissed as hell."

Jenkins smiled. "You would've liked to talk to them, Madame. They were quite charming."

"Oh, I don't think so," she replied. "You're way better at listening than me. I would've just yapped their ears off." She considered a moment. "What were their names?"

"I only caught their first names, Madame. Gracie and Lucia."

"They're from around here?"

"I'm not quite sure, but they did say that they worked in a restaurant in...er, Pico Street, I believe."

Aphrodite wrinkled her nose. "Oh. No, definitely not from around here."

His employer's expression made Jenkins feel as if he had to come to their defense. "They were quite nice," he volunteered rather lamely.

"Oh, yeah, absolutely," Aphrodite nodded furiously. "I didn't say they were little tramps, or anything." She looked out at the window again. The tow truck had long since rounded the rain slick corner, and it was dark again outside. "I was just wondering what they're doing so far from home."

** CHAPTER TWO - THE PEANUT GALLERY**

_ Six Years Ago..._

A single brokenstreetlight illuminated the nearly vacant parking lot behind Frankie's. A light, cool breeze insinuated itself through the deserted Downtown street, tossing the various papers and leaves littering the concrete with loud rustling. Somewhere, behind the shadowed buildings, a stray cat mewed at the crescent moon, which stood in stark contrast to the inky blackness of the starless Los Angeles sky. 

Lucia Guerrero impatiently brushed her raven bangs from her brow as she struggled with the rusted door handle of her red Honda. It had been a long night — the nights were always long, but tonight had been especially miserable — and both body and mind were looking forward to the shabby comforts of her small apartment. _ Now, if only this damned car would cooperate,_ she mentally groused as she yanked strongly at the car handle. 

Lucia blew out a frustrated huff, and her breath disappeared in a puff into the chilly night. "One of these days, I'm buying myself a Benz_ ,_" she muttered to herself as shewrestled with the stubborn handle. As if hearing the underlying threat in her low tone, the handle finally gave with a loud pop and the door swung ponderously open. 

With a sigh, the tall brunette sank into the leather seat, slammed the door shut, and leaned back against the headrest, welcoming the warm, dark solitude of the small car. It had been another tedious night of singing, and drinking, and then more singing, and Lucia knew that if she didn't take this time to stop and recollect herself, she would snap. Closing her eyes, she let the silence wrap itself around her with familiar fingers, a balm to her tense muscles and the throbbing knot behind her forehead. 

She crinkled her nose when she sensed the faint smell of cigarette smoke on her clothes. Making a face, she recalled one particularly smarmy man who'd spent the night making passes at her, grinning wolfishly around the cigarette perched between his lips. He'd hung onto her like a leech, had taken a seat right in front of the stage as she was performing, had even followed her to the door of her tiny dressing room when she had finished.

"Ya know, I got a place near here," he had said with a suggestive leer in his eyes. 

Lucia had given him a cool once over, noting the cheap cologne and the drunken slur of his voice. Oh, he wasn't that bad, but Lucia had known from the first second he had approached her that he wasn't worth it. No style, no spark, not enough to warrant even an ounce of her interest. So she had narrowed her crystalline eyes at him, told him what he could do with his cigarette, and walked away. But not before she had heard him shout at her retreating form, voice wavering slightly, "Yeah, go on, bitch! Your fuckin' loss."

And despite herself, she had winced. Not because her feelings were hurt, but because she had heard almost the exact same words fly furiously from another man's mouth not five months before. And _ he_ had style, and _ he_ had spark, and she had been _ much_ more than interested. And there were times when she almost thought that what he had said was right.

But presently, Lucia shook her head at her thoughts. _ Leave the past alone, Guerrero,_ she mentally berated herself. _ Ancient history. That's all Johnnie ever was, or ever will be, so get over it._

Allowing herself a short sigh, she wearily reached over and turned the key behind the wheel, gunning the Honda to a sputtering start. She eased the car out of her spot after a quick glance at the rearview mirror, but it was too late when she heard the sudden loud squeal of tires pierce through the still air. The car suddenly bucked when another car behind it rammed its nose into the trunk with an angry jolt. 

"What the hell?" Lucia cursed as she stopped bouncing on her seat. Whirling her head around, she saw that a dark colored sedan had collided with the trunk of the Honda. 

Lucia furiously stepped out of her car and walked to the trunk to survey the damage. A scowl darkened her features as she saw the large wrinkled dent disfiguring the back of the car. "Terrific." she muttered to no one in particular. 

"Oh my God!" A short blonde woman had tentatively scrambled out of the sedan and was staring with wide eyes at the collision. Whirling on her heel, Lucia pinned her stunning blue eyes on her accusingly. 

"Oh my God," the blonde murmured again. "I am so sorry," she said to Lucia, taking a step closer to the glaring brunette. "It was so dark, and I thought I was alone and all of a sudden you were backing up, and...oh, gosh, are you all right?" she gushed, her words tumbling over themselves.

"_ I'm_ just peachy!" Lucia gritted out. "But look what you just did to my car!" 

The blonde stepped back when she saw those blue eyes throwing daggers at her, but then her own eyes answered with a glare of her own. "What _ I_ did? This was not my fault," she declared, matching Lucia's stare. "It was dark, and your lights were broken, so how was I supposed to see you?" 

Lucia raised one jet black eyebrow and asked, "Were _ your_ lights broken?" 

The blonde looked uncertain as she said, "No."

Lucia quirked her lips in a humorless smile and said, "Then how could you _ not_ see me?"

"But I...it was dark, and...oh..." the blonde sputtered before leaning back against the sedan, covering her head with her hands. For a moment, Lucia felt uncertain and a little bit sorry for the young woman. Finally, the blonde raised her head, and with a wan, uncertain smile, she said to Lucia, "Just not my day, I guess."

Slowly, Lucia felt the anger in her begin to ebb as she stared at the blonde's tired features. Turning abruptly away, she critically surveyed the damage to the cars. It wasn't bad at all, really; nothing a quick visit to the shop wouldn't fix. Taking a deep breath, she faced the blonde, who was staring at her with red-rimmed green eyes. "Look, it's been a really long day for me, too, and maybe...I should have been more careful," she grudgingly admitted. "Why don't we both just get out of here, and forget this mess? The damage isn't irreparable, and I really don't wanna go another round with my insurance company," she finished with a small smirk.

The blonde grinned ironically. "Me either. Considering I don't have one," she said sheepishly.

Lucia's other brow went up as she considered this. "Then, what..."

"It's a rental," the blonde said, staring at the stalled sedan. "I just moved in from Bakersfield. New apartment, new job," she said softly, throwing a glance at the darkened club. "And this is how I start off my new life. By trying to mow you down." She laughed dryly.

Lucia looked at the small woman with a growing degree of sympathy. She was young, too young to be toiling through the rough underbelly of Los Angeles, and that was something Lucia understood entirely too well.

"Don't worry about it," she said after a moment, shrugging her shoulders slightly. "Like I said, not that big of a deal."

The blonde smiled at Lucia. "Thanks," she said sincerely. Lucia nodded once, then walked back to her car, preparing to step inside, but the other woman's voice stopped her. "You're the singer, right?"

Turning, Lucia stared at the blonde who had moved to stand beside the Honda, head cocked in curiosity. "Was that you singing at the club tonight?"

"Uh, yeah."

The blonde's smile widened. "I know this is kind of a weird thing to be telling you, seeing as how I almost totaled your car," she chuckled lightly, "but my name's Gracie Pryson. I'm the new waitress." Still grinning, she held out her hand to Lucia as if completely forgetting about the dented cars behind her.

Lucia stared at the offered hand a moment before taking it. "Lucia," she answered, inwardly shaking her head at the absurdity of this girl. "Um...I'm really tired," she said pointedly when Gracie opened her mouth as if to make more conversation.

"Oh...right! Um, sorry. Well, it was...um, I'll just be going then," the blonde said sheepishly. She made as if to walk back to her sedan, and Lucia let out a small sigh of relief.

"Oh, Lucia?" Gracie called back seconds later.

Exasperated, Lucia rolled her eyes and yelled out the window, "What?"

Gracie's blonde head was poking out of her own window as she asked, "Do you know how to get to Lucas Avenue from here?"

"I should, that's my street," Lucia said slowly, having an uncomfortable, vague feeling as to where this was going.

Gracie's eyes brightened, and she asked tentatively, "Would you mind if, um...I mean, I just moved in, and I'm still not familiar with the geography, and I was wondering if you'd..."

Lucia just rolled her eyes and said abruptly, "Look, just follow my car, okay? I'll lead you there." _ I can't believe this!_ she thought, exasperated, as Gracie shot another grateful smile at her. _ I'm getting soft._ "What's your address?" she asked.

"Um, four-three-six North Lucas," was the answer, and Lucia blinked in disbelief. "What?" Gracie asked, concerned with Lucia's slightly openmouthed expression.

Lucia raised her eyes to the darkenedheavens for a second before fixing her dry stare at Gracie. "Looks like we're gonna be neighbors," she replied simply. 

"Neighbors? Wow!" Gracie exclaimed, and Lucia wondered that her face didn't seem to hurt from all the smiling she's doing. "How funny. And here, I just rammed right into your car!" She chuckled, eyes bright. "What a neat coincidence."

"Yeah, neat," Lucia muttered. "Well, let's just...get going, all right?" And with that, she slammed her door shut, and backed out of the parking lot, an eager blonde in a dented sedan following close behind.

So strangely do great things begin...

** ************

Now six years later, Gracie is no longer so awkward, nor Lucia so lonely. But the Honda had not aged quite as well, and by the time they settled things with the towing service, it was close to three in the morning. The pair returned to their three-story downtown apartment building disheveled and soaking wet, and they wearily stumbled into the cramped elevator. Lucia jabbed at the THREE button, then leaned against the wall, closing her eyes wearily as she felt the elevator begin its slow ascent. 

"You okay there, Lu?" Gracie asked her, as she leaned on the opposite wall. 

"Yeah, I'm fine," she mumbled. "Just a lot on my mind."

"Hey, don't worry," Gracie said. "I'll split the cost of the Honda with you. I've been saving up my tips."

Lucia let a small grin lift the corner of her mouth. "Thanks. But there's something else...." she trailed off, unsure if she should bother her friend with her personal problems.

"Yeah, I know." When the brunette raised an eyebrow at her, Gracie raised her hands defensively. "Hey, I know you better than you think. So, you gonna tell me?"

Lucia looked at her for a moment, then shook her head slightly. "No, not your problem. Just...forget it."

_ Uh-huh,_ Gracie thought wryly. _ Okay, then, Guerrero...I'll humor you. For now._

Just then, the elevator doors creaked open, and Gracie followed Lucia out into the hallway. "You know what?" she chirped behind Lucia, as she made her way to her door. 

"No, what?" came the dry reply.

"I'm in the mood for some take-out."

"So order," Lucia replied simply, rattling her doorknob as she tried to slide in her key. 

Gracie nodded briskly, and when Lucia finally swung the door open, she purposefully strode inside the small apartment to stand in the sparse living room. "Okay, what do you want?" she asked over her shoulder as she reached for Lucia's phone.

Lucia's brow crinkled. "Wait, I never said _ I _wanted take-out."

Gracie shook her head as she punched in the numbers for their favorite 24-hour Chinese restaurant. "Lucia, Lucia," she said chidingly. "Haven't you heard that take-out is food for the soul?"

"I don't want food for the soul," Lucia protested, grabbing the phone away from Gracie. "I just want to sleep!"

"Yeah, well so do I," Gracie retorted, snatching the phone back. "But neither of us is gonna get any sleep if you keep going on with that little funk of yours and if I keep worrying about what it is that's bothering you."

"Well, if that's what this is about, then why are you calling Tofu Tavern?"

"Because I'm hungry!"

Lucia shook her head in mild disbelief. "How can you possibly be hungry? You ate two whole slices of pie before we left Frankie's, and then downed about three mugs of hot cocoa when that Jenkins person let us in to use the phone."

"Come on, Lu," Gracie begged her, dropping the phone back on the receiver and plopping down on Lucia's couch. "My stomach's begging me for mercy. And I know you've got issues, so we may as well work them out over the mooshoo sauce. Whaddaya say?"

Lucia shook her head, her mouth curving in an affectionate grin. "It's three o'clock in the morning, Gracie. Go back to your apartment and go to sleep," she repeated gently. When she saw that the little blonde wasn't budging, she let a small amount of pleading into her voice. "Please? I'm really tired, I need to sleep." 

"Liar."

Lucia cocked an eyebrow. "What?"

Gracie heaved a melodramatic sigh, shook her head, and patted the spot on the sofa beside her. Lucia raised her eyes to the ceiling, then reluctantly sat down. Putting her arm around the brunette, Gracie began, "You, my dear friend, are upset about something, and not just about the car. It is obviously something that you feel uncomfortable sharing, hence this 'Get-the-hell-outta-my-personal-space' attitude of yours." 

Lucia opened her mouth to say something, but Gracie brought up a finger to stop her. "Ah, ah — please hold all comments until after Doctor Pryson is done talking." Standing up, Gracie paced up and down the worn carpet, head bowed and chin cupped between her thumb and index finger in a contemplative pose. "Using my incredible powers of perception, I noticed that while you were singing your little ditty back at Frankie's, you started, as if recognizing someone in the audience. Now," she said briskly, "I saw this and asked myself, 'Self, who is it that could make the unflappable Lucia so flappable?'"

"You're crazy," Lucia said flatly.

"Now, now," Gracie wagged her finger at her. "This is not about _ me_, it's about _ you_, my surly songstress. So come on, tell me who it was."

Lucia stared straight ahead, her blue eyes guarded. 

Gracie softened her voice, and sat back down beside Lucia. "It's about a guy, huh?"

A stiff nod. 

"Romantic interest? Torrid love affair? Significant significant other? Or all of the above?" Gracie pressed.

Finally, Lucia turned her head to her, annoyance just barely masking amusement. "You're not going to let me sleep until I give you all the details, are you?" 

"Not a wink," Gracie said, a twinkle in her eye.

Sighing melodramatically Lucia muttered, "Fine, fine. Order us some food, and then we'll...talk...I guess," she finished reluctantly.

With a spring, Gracie was across the room snatching up the receiver. "Oh goody, chicken chow-mein and a sensitive chat," she sang as she dialed the number. "I just _ love_ sensitive chats," she winked before a voice on the other line took her order. 

Lucia wrinkled her head in mild worry. _ Oh damn...what have I gotten myself into?_

** ************

It had taken the delivery boy forty-five minutes to find their apartment building. The pimply-faced youth had arrived at their door soaking wet, carrying a wrinkled, sodden paper bag containing what Lucia had fearfully assumed was their food. Gracie had smiled at him pityingly and then paid him the money, _ sans_ tip.

"It's not like he asked for one," Gracie defended herself, as she settled herself beside Lucia on floor, her back against the couch.

"You slammed the door in his face before he could say anything," Lucia retorted as she reached for a carton of rice. 

"Yeah, yeah," Gracie mumbled around a mouthful of food. "So, out with it. Who did you see at the club?"

Lucia swallowed and dabbed at her mouth with a napkin before answering. "His name's Kayzar. Johnnie Kayzar."

"Ugh," Gracie winced. "What kind of name is that? Sounds like a Russian hit man for the mafia."

Lucia grinned a little. "Well, that's sorta close. He's not exactly the 'boy-next-door' type."

"Bad boy?"

"Oh, yeah."

Gracie scooted closer, her eyes flashing as her curiosity was piqued. "Lemme guess. You two have a history?" She was answered by a vague nod, and impatiently she prompted, "Well? Details?"

Lucia sighed, and leaned back against the couch. She closed her vibrant blue eyes, as if reading the lines off of her closed eyelids. "Yes, we have a history. We...I met him a few years ago — before I met you. It was in Frankie's, and I was singing, and when I finished...I just saw him standing there by the bar, looking at me. I went over, we talked, and I had a few drinks...big mistake, I guess." She heaved a sigh and opened her eyes, fixing them on the ceiling above her. "Somehow, we ended up here, then one thing led to another, and...." She let herself drift off, ignoring the little lurch inside her which awakened along with the memories.

Gracie took hold of Lucia's hand and squeezed it warmly. "Then what?" she asked softly.

"I thought that it was just a one-night fling. That we would just walk away from this. And I didn't have a problem with that...I just didn't expect anything more. But the next night, he showed up at Frankie's again. Same thing happened the next night, and the night after that, until it —_ he_ — became routine." 

Gracie looked down, suddenly having an idea of where this was going. "Did you...and he —"

"I think I fell in love with him," Lucia interrupted quietly, and Gracie felt her eyes widen in shock. "I mean...I hardly knew him, and he could be such an arrogant bastard sometimes, but the more I saw him, the more I was hooked. He was handsome, charming, smart...he told me all the things I wanted to hear. And I believed them all."

"What happened?" Gracie asked softly. 

"He asked me to marry him."

"What?" Gracie gasped. 

"Yeah, I know. My exact thought at the time."  


"What did you say?"

Lucia took a deep breath before answering. "I told him no. Not right now, anyway, I wasn't ready. He...didn't take it very well. I mean, I told him that I would think about it, but he took it as an insult. He never said anything about it again, but I could feel him drifting away from me. Then one night, when he didn't show up at the club, I called him. This...woman answered the phone, and I could hear him in the background, and they...." She clamped her mouth shut as the heavy knot of anger and betrayal grew inside her chest. 

Gracie said nothing, but her throat tightened in anger. Lucia would never say so, but she was hurting. And it pained her. _ Bastard,_ her mind snarled at the man who had caused her friend such pain.

"I called him over the next day, and I broke up with him," Lucia finally continued. "It wasn't pretty, to say the least. We had a fight, and he stormed out, and that was the last I ever saw of him."

"Until tonight," Gracie added.

Lucia nodded gravely. "Until tonight."

"I was wondering why you went straight to your dressing room right after your number," Gracie mused. "What could he want to talk to you about?"

Lucia's eyes turned flinty. "I don't know, and frankly I don't care. Whatever he wants, he's not going to get it. I didn't even think he'd have the guts to show his face to me again. The rat." 

Gracie felt the change in her friend's demeanor. Lucia's eyes were sparking with a cold fury and her muscles were stiffened, taut with barely restrained rage. She could almost feel the hate threatening to burst through her skin. She began to regret she ever broached this topic to Lucia. 

Gracie was aware of Lucia's hot temper, and though she loved her like a sister, this side of her friend scared her sometimes. It was such a far cry from the elegantly cool Lucia she knew so well. There was an anger in her, lurking just beneath the stony surface, and it was unnerving to think that at any minute, it could become unleashed.

"Lucia," she said almost tentatively. "Lu, listen to me." 

Lucia silently turned her icy blue eyes on Gracie, and the blonde nearly flinched when she saw the barbed hate there. Taking a deep breath, she continued, "Don't waste your energy hating him, Lu. He's not worth it."

For a long moment, Lucia was silent, her features hard. Finally, she ran her long fingers through her silken hair and nodded at an unopened carton of food. "Pass me a dumpling, will you?"

Silently understanding, Gracie passed the styrofoam carton to her friend. Gracie has known Lucia long enough to know when she deemed a discussion closed, and this was one such moment. Lucia preferred to deal with emotional issues silently and on her own. It was aggravating sometimes, but Gracie understood. Lucia had always said that the strongest trees stood alone. And Lucia was nothing if not strong. 

She fixed her eyes on Lucia, who had closed her eyes, lost in thoughts and memories. Gracie observed her, feeling a bit put out as she watched Lucia retreat behind her impassive mask, but a little grateful that she had gotten out of her friend as much as she had. Lucia was the one person who truly understood Gracie, and who had borne her pain along with her own burden. They would laugh and cry and grow old together, of that Gracie felt certain. Their souls were linked in their friendship, as they would be always. But despite their bond, Gracie knew that Lucia was, in many ways, untouchable. She was dark and exotic and mysterious, and Gracie has long given up trying to solve the puzzle that was her best friend. She only knew that wherever Lucia went, she would follow. She was her friend, after all. Incorrigible or not, she loved her.

Gracie leaned back against the worn couch and massaged her temples. She could feel the air in the small apartment thicken, and she was tired suddenly, a cold weariness in her bones. The long nights and the slow days were finally getting to her, and she wondered if it would always be like this. If it had always been like this. Presently, she felt her eyelids drooping. _ Ugh, I need my pillow,_ she inwardly yawned. "Lucia?" 

"Hmm?"

"I think I'll turn in now," Gracie said quietly, as if reluctant to disturb the silence. 

"About time," Lucia grumbled, her eyes still closed.

Gracie smiled affectionately, then leaned over and kissed Lucia on top of her raven head. "Night," she said as she stood.

Lucia cracked her eyes open and nodded. "Good night."

"I'll toss this stuff outside," Gracie said, picking up the emptied cartons and napkins.

"You'd better, you're the one who ordered them," Lucia said with a small smirk as she stood up, stretching her long legs.

Gracie narrowed her eyes. "I'd respond to that, but I'm just too tired."

Lucia smiled and opened the door for her. "I'll see you tomorrow."

"All right," Gracie said, stifling a yawn. 

"Oh, and Gracie," Lucia called as Gracie was walking down the hall to her own apartment. 

"Hmm?"

"Thanks. You know...for listening, and all that," Lucia said, looking almost shy.

Gracie felt a warm smile make its way across her face. "No problem, Lu. Next time you have issues you wanna deal with, give me a holler and we'll order take-out."

Her full lips tugging into a grin, Lucia gave her friend a final wave, then closed the door. 

** ************

_ The sky was a vast sea of blue, and despite the pain searing her belly, as she rolled her eyes heavenward, all she could think was that it was so calm and beautiful...._

She realized that she had slipped to the ground, and that strong warm arms had caught her before she hit the bloodied grass. Someone was screaming, crying, desperately clutching her hand.

"Don't leave me!" she was sobbing. "You can't leave me again!"

Beyond the haze of pain, she registered a blonde head hovering over her. Feebly, she tried to lift her hand to touch the face, but she felt numb. She could only listen as the woman's voice frantically called to someone. "Save her! If you care about her, then save her...."

A low, gruff voice answered. It was the person holding her, and she could feel the deep rumble of his chest as he replied in a stunned monotone, "I can't. I am War...I can't heal."

With a monumental effort she rolled her head to the side to look at the face of the man holding her tightly. Her eyes had blurred and the world had turned into a foggy dream, but she could still make out a taut, square jaw, distorted but familiar somehow.

But the pain...! White hot agony lanced through her body, draining her. She felt the darkness creeping around her, threatening to devour her with its insidious stealth. She sighed, and began to close her eyes. It hurt too much, and she was tired...so tired....

But desperately, he shook her, not letting her sleep. "No, damn it, you are not leaving me! Do you hear me, I won't let you go!" 

Her mouth tried to form a response, but the words would not crawl past her lips. In a final plea, he clutched her to his chest, and burying his face in her hair, he sobbed. "Please don't leave me...." Her heart knotted in sorrow as she felt his body tremble in grief. Something wet slid down her cheek.

Laboriously, she lifted her eyes. Despite the haze clouding her vision, she saw clearly his own brown orbs staring into hers, clutching at her soul as he held her limp form. His eyes were stamped with a sorrow so profound, it took her breath away. As the tears flowed, he whispered brokenly to her, "I love you."

She tried to smile, but a final spasm of pain shook her body. Faintly she whispered into his chest, "I know." 

But it was too much, and the darkness was calling to her, and the placid blue sky was reaching for her with pale arms, and she let her eyes drift shut, feeling like she was floating on water, on air, and a cool wind washed the pain and tiredness away from her until she could breathe again, and she let it carry her above the earth. But as she soared higher, their sobs chased her into the sun, and their loss rippled through the air, threatening to tug her back to them, and she could hear the roar of his agony begging for her...

"...XEEENAAA!!!"

Lucia awoke with a jerk, jolting from the worn sheets of her bed like a spring. Trembling, she took in her darkened surroundings, and heaved a sigh. "Dreaming. Just dreaming," she murmured haltingly to herself, taking comfort in the low familiarity of her voice. She realized that her hands were still clutching the blankets like white-knuckled claws. She released her death-grip on them, closed her eyes, and began to breathe deeply.

In moments, she felt her heart still its frantic beating. Opening her eyes, she found the small digital clock sitting on the bookcase across the room. The bright red letters spelled "4:30," and Lucia groaned. "How the hell am I ever going to get up in the morning?" she muttered. 

Exasperated, she fell back onto her pillow. _ What the hell was that about?_ she wondered, closing her eyes. She'd had dreams before, surely, but this one had seemed so _ alive_. She could still feel her skin tingling where the warmth of her own blood had been. The sounds, the smells, those voices, and those eyes...she felt the small stirrings of rediscovery in her chest, as if she had been cleaning out her closet and had come across a faded picture at the bottom of a long-forgotten box. 

She shook her head and rolled over onto her side. _ Enough with this,_ she snapped to herself. _ No use in getting all metaphysical. I've still gotta get to work tomorrow._ She snapped her eyelids closed, determined to catch a few more precious hours of sleep before the day fell upon her. 

And definitely no more Chinese food for me.

To be continued... *EG* 


End file.
